


fairytales aren’t for crying

by michaelwheeler



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Bisexual Mike Wheeler, Gay Will Byers, Gen, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Internalized Homophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-26 01:50:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13225653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/michaelwheeler/pseuds/michaelwheeler
Summary: The Wheeler family has some well-hidden issues behind closed doors.





	fairytales aren’t for crying

**Author's Note:**

> welcome to Mike character Study 101. this fic is gonna be a doozy. please don’t read if you are sensitive to serious topics such as abuse, bullying, & self harm!

He's awoken by a loud yell, presumably his father's.

Mike hasn't always been a light sleeper, but the past few years, he became very easily disturbed while asleep. Every night, the noise that would wake him would be somewhat a little different than the last. A scream. A yell. A sob. Glass shattering. Doors slamming. It was always different. This time, it was Holly.

He heard her uneven, shaky breaths as the younger opened his door, shutting it softly behind her. Sitting up in bed, Mike blinked away the sleep in his eyes, “Holly?” He asked, but all he got in reply was Holy crawling up on his bottom bunk with him, burrowing her face in his chest as she out a wail, muffled.

_Yeah, me too._

He gets it.

Shock isn’t something that comes to him anymore. Nothing really ever comes to him anymore. Looping an arm around her waist, he rubbed her back in circular motions, his other hand threading through her hair. Sure, his siblings necessarily weren’t great to him, and he was absolutely terrible to them. He’d lost complete control of himself. He really didn’t know who he was anymore. He was only a figment of the boy he once was.

“Bad dream?” She shook her head, sobs slowing coming to a halt, breaths still uneven. “Okay. Mom and Dad, then?” With that, he received a nod.

He let out a sigh, the sound of glass shattering piercing his ears, which made both of them jump, maybe Mike even more than Holly. Being the boy in the family, he got everything worse. “Hey. Hey, Holly, it’s okay. Look at me.” It was more of a command, and not an ask, and she did as he told her. He brushed her hair out of her face, gingerly swiping a tear from her cheek. She wasn’t talking much. “I know it’s a school night, and Nancy’s at Steve’s... _studying_. But, Joyce, she’s a nice lady, you know that. We could go to her house, with Will. You like Will. You two can draw and, and, read stories together. How’s that sound?”

“O-Okay, Mike.”

Kissing her forehead, he pulled her off his lap, grabbing his school bag. He flicked on the light, then started rummaging through his drawers for clothes. See, a while back, Holly, had cut the sleeves off of nearly all his shirts, and now he only has so many shirts. Huffing, he shoved a sweater in his bag, as well as a pair of jeans. He was still in his school clothes from the previous day. He had a habit of doing that. Slipping on his shoes, he slung the bag over his shoulder before walking to his little sister and picking her up, her chin resting on his (very boney) shoulder.

He shut the light, very stealthily making his way across the hall to Holly’s room, stepping inside and shutting the door almost immediately, setting her down.

“Okay, go grab your stuff. Put some clothes in your schoolbag and put your shoes on.”

She seemed to stop for a moment, so Mike crouched down, a look of empathy on his face. He put a hand on her shoulder, “Please?”

And she didn’t hesitate that time.

* * *

Once Holly had everything together, he turned off the light, and they were back in the hallway. He picked her up so it wouldn’t make so much noise when they were going down the stairs, and he jumped when he heard them start to scream at each other again. He was starting to lose his composure. He was scared, of course. He was still only a kid. Just like Holly.

Creeping down the stairs, flinching every time their volume rose, he stopped at the landing at the bottom of the stairs. His gaze was cast over to the living room, where he saw about five empty beer bottles, presumably his dad’s, and one that was shattered to pieces over by the kitchen’s opening. He walked over to the front door, setting Holly down. He fumbled with the keys, his hands shaking. Just his luck, he dropped the leys, and they fell with a clatter. _Fuck._

“Who’s there?”

Mike’s blood ran cold, and he pushed Holly behind him. His father bounded in, sneering, eyes glazed over drunkenly. “And _where the fuck_ do you think _you’re_ going, Michael?” There was a cigarette in his hand. He already had enough burns on his wrists from Ted’s cigarettes. They hurt. They fucking _hurt_. He hoped this wasn’t going to be one of those nights. “B-Byers. They—um—Will. Will needs me. He-He’s having an episode. And Holly can’t sleep, so she’s coming with me.” His voice was betraying him, shaking. His palms were sweating, and there was a lump lodged in his throat. _Don’t cry, don’t you dare fucking cry, Wheeler._

He didn’t know why, but a fist collided with his face, Ted’s ring catching his bottom lip, cutting it. Mike instantly recoiled, placing his hand over his cheek. Whatever emotion he’d been feeling was replaced with anger. That’s what happened most of the time. “Hey, what the fuck?! Listen, I’m fucking out, leave me the fuck alone!” He grabbed the keys again, fumbling with the door, thrusting it open, but Ted had gotten ahold of his wrist, putting out his cigarette on it.

“Don’t you ever talk back to me like that, _fag_! You’re really a _disappointment_ , you know that? I wish you were like Nancy. I wish you were _dead_. God, you’re a fuckup. I hope you go _die._ ”

As soon as Mike got the door open, his wrist in searing pain, he picked up a crying Holly, gritting his teeth. He ran to his bike, mounting it and waiting for Holly to situate herself behind him (although impatiently), hearing a bottle shatter behind him. His eyes burned, and he knew that there might be floodgates soon, but he kept his composure.

* * *

He pedaled as fast as possible to the Byers’, his heart racing, grabbing Holly as soon as they got there, dropping his Bike. He knocked on their door rapidly, like a mad man. The door opened to reveal Jonathan in his pajamas, looking slightly pissed off that his sleep had been interrupted. “Alright, what the fu—,” his words died in his throat as he looked down and saw Mike, holding his little sister as well. The elder boy placed a hand on Mike’s back, ushering him inside. “ _Mike_?! What the hell are you doing—what the hell happened?” Jonathan inquired, but he only shook his head, walking down the hall to Will’s room, opening the door, eliciting a quiet creak. He turned on the light, setting Holly down on the chair by the desk, setting a piece of paper and crayons in front of her, which she gladly took.

Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear before sitting down on Will’s bed, he looked over to see Jonathan in the doorway. He sent him a _‘get the fuck away before I slap you’_ glare, which ultimately worked, and heard him shuffle into the bathroom. Turning back over to his sleeping friend, he felt bad for coming, waking him. He felt his eyes start to water, and he tried his best to will away his tears, biting down on his lip (which was bleeding already bleeding, great way to help the cause). He took Will’s hand, his hand shaking, running his thumb over his knuckles, then tapped him on the shoulder. This woke him up. His eyes slowly opened, adjusting to his surroundings, sitting up. He saw Mike and Holly, Mike a mess, but as disoriented he was he still knew Mike was an absolute mess.

“Mike? What? What’s going on?”

“Nothing, it’s okay.”

“That’s what you always say. About _everything_ , Mike,” Will frowned, sighing. “Hey, Holly.”

“Hi.”

Will turned his gaze back to Mike again, and Mike just wanted to shrivel up and die at the look Will was giving him. The smaller boy stood, grabbing the older Wheeler’s hand and dragged him to the bathroom, which Jonathan had left by now. Will took hydrogen peroxide from the cabinet and slammed it on the counter accidentally, which caused Mike to jump and reflexively put his hands up as an act of defense, a sob escaping his mouth as his eyes shut tightly. The other boy immediately turned to look at him, his shock dissipating into nothing but concern, features softening. Shit. He reached out, gently pulling Mike’s hands down, wiping away the single tear that fell, his eyebrows knit together. “Mike... You know you can talk to me, Mike. What’s going on? Please, Mike.” He nearly begged, unable to bear Mike just freaking out in front of him without knowing the cause.

“I’m sorry,” Mike spoke, voice shaky and quiet, like he didn’t want anyone else to hear him. _Like he thought the government was still listening_.

Mike opened his eyes, seeing Will’s expression, covering his mouth with his hand, shutting his eyes tight and sliding down against the door to the floor. He fell apart. He started sobbing, letting out months of pent up emotions, body trembling as he cried, tears rolling down his face. Will pushed past his shock, moving in between Mike’s knees, “Mike, Mike, look at me, please. Please look at me. It’s going to be okay. It’s gonna be alright. Please, Mike.” He placed a hand on Mike’s freckled cheek, wiping away his tears, listening to Mike’s breath hitch, hitch, and hitch, over and over again. Will thanked whatever god that was out there, because Mike opened his eyes and looked at him. But it wasn’t for long, because he quickly buried his face into the crook of Will’s neck, wrapping his arms around him tightly, his sobs seeming to calm, but only because he started running his mouth with self-deprecating things.

“I-I’m sorry. Fuck. I’m s-so sorry, W-Will. I’m such a f-fuck up. I’m sorry. I-I shouldn’t be here.”

“Mike.”

“I’m bad f-for you g-guys, I’m a b-bad kid. Don’t y-you know? D-Dad says th—,”

“Mike! Stop. Stop that. We love you, stop... You aren’t a bad kid, Mike. You’re not a fuck up, either. Don’t say that about yourself. Who makes you feel this way? _Who hurt you?_ ”

Mike gripped the back of Will’s Star Wars shirt like it was his lifeline, taking a shuddering breath. He couldn’t. He couldn’t tell him. He couldn’t do that to Will, especially after how he’d been stuck in the Upsidedown and it was Mike’s fault that he was even there. He was the leader of the group, he was supposed to protect them all, and he failed everyone. It was his fault. It should’ve been him, not Will.

“Mike, stop. I can hear you thinking.”

“Sorry.”

His sobs had come to a halt, now and he pulled away slightly to look at Will, but quickly looked over to the wall, starting to feel vulnerable. Will sighed. There was a bruise forming on Mike’s cheek, and there was blood on his bottom lip. Mike didn’t try to will away his tears anymore. He was so, so tired. He never slept anymore. He was tired of everything. Drained. Sometimes, he just wished he could disappear. That the Demogorgan would come back and take him, only him, and be satisfied. Will dragged his thumb across the boy’s cheek, in which he instantly recoiled, like he’d been burned. Will tried not to look hurt, he tired to understand, but he couldn't if Mike wouldn't tell him anything. Mike wasn't sure if he _wanted_ to tell him anything. It'd be too much of a risk. A risk he couldn't take. It was okay. He could hold things inside, keep feelings bottled up for an eternity. He had been for the past few years. No one knew about the Wheeler family's issues but the Wheeler family. That was how it'd always been.

But looking at Will's face? God. It made him feel guilty. He didn't know why. He couldn't begin to fathom why he felt so guilty not telling him. He loved Will as much as he loved Eleven.

El.

He missed her.

"It's just-just my parents. They... fight. A lot. A-And, it's mostly my fault. I mean, does a day ever pass by that I don't get in trouble at school? Michael Wheeler, President of AV Club, a failure to the world." He shook his head. "Who am I anymore? I don't know what h-happened. I don't know how I became this--this deranged kid. Something's wrong with me, Will."

Will took Mike's hand into his own, brushing Mike's hair out of his face. His hair had gotten curlier over the years, and it was slightly longer than usual, but it still looked nice. It was tousled, from Mike's bike ride, but still nice. "Come on, Mike. You know that's not true. I wouldn't lie to you," Will forced a small smile, nudging Mike gently with his elbow, "friends don't lie, remember? And, I'm sure Eleven wouldn't want you to think so lowly of yourself either." Mike stilled at the mention of her for a minute or so, and Will thought he might've struck the wrong nerve, but he relaxed after a moment, letting out a sigh.

"Yeah, you're right. She wouldn't. Thanks, Will. For--dealing with me and shit. I appreciate it. I know I'm a handful."

Smiling, Will stood, pulling Mike up with him. "Hm. Yeah, but only sometimes. I can handle it," he let go of Mike's hands, turning on the faucet and grabbing a rag, wetting it. MIke hoisted himself up on the counter, tilting his head downwards, because that was supposed to help _or something_. Shutting off the faucet, he turned to the Wheeler, murmuring something along the lines of 'it might sting', then dabbed at his lip with the cloth, resulting in Mike flinching, but not moving away. He effectively cleaned the blood from his lips, so he grabbed a cotton pad, pouring the hydrogen peroxide he took out earlier on it, then swiped across his lip with it. Will washed the rag, and Mike threw away the used cotton pad next to him, then watched Will wring out the rag in the sink, hang it up afterwards. He turned back to look at Mike, and Mike managed a small smile.

Will, who was and always had been there for Mike. Even as young kids, five year-olds, Will was always there. They would both have each other's backs. And they always would. Mike trusted Will, he was someone he was very close to, as he'd been there for a very large part of his life, nearly all of it. Since the first day of Kindergarten. That was a long time ago. It was surprising to him that Will stayed. If Mike were him, he wouldn't have stayed with Mike. Through his rebellious acts, his anger issues, his depressive episodes. He didn't know how Will handled him so well. Will handled everything well. That was something he admired about him. Mike had the tendency to freak out about a lot of things. Will wasn't like. Will was Will.

Mike leaned in, pressing a kiss to the smaller boy's cheek before jumping off the counter, dragging him out of the bathroom and into Will's room again. "Holly, come here, follow us," he spoke, a little bit or urgency in his voice, but a smile on his face to let her know that it was okay, that they were safe, that no one was going to hurt them. She did as she was told, walking up to her older brother, and he took her hand, running to the kitchen, the younger Byers' following close behind. He let go of Holly's hand to start rummaging through the cabinets that he knew all too well.

"You got any hot chocolate up in here? It's fucking cold out--sorry, Holly." Earning laughter from the other two kids, they all started to do their parts after learning that, yes, they did have hot chocolate.

Everything would be alright. They'd be alright.

_He'd be alright._


End file.
